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WATCHING EYES

Auteur: DebbyWrites
last update Dernière mise à jour: 2025-05-28 18:15:42

ELEANOR SINCLAIR

Over the next several days, I try to put Damian out of my mind, but he haunts me.

The manner in which he appeared at the gala-so unlike the man I had married, and yet so achingly familiar-gnaws continuously through my mind. I plunge into work, managing my cotton business and the dream of climbing to the very top of independence. Yet, each quiet moment brings back his face: the desperation in his eyes, the deliberate solitude, the half-full glass. I feel pity for him, but all the same, I do not think I can go back to him.

It takes up to the fifth day of waiting for Marcus's first update to come. When it does, I then agree to meet him at a dimly lit café on the outskirts of Vieuti, where prying eyes would not see us. He comes on time and slides into the booth across from me, his expression grim as he takes in the surroundings.

"Vincent's been busy," he says, pushing a thin folder toward me. "He's got his fingers stuck in a lot of pies-real estate, tech startups, even s
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  • Scarred Roses, Burning Vengeance   CLOSER

    ELEANOR SINCLAIR I sit at my desk, Marcus's folder open before me.The white pages bleed secrets in black ink like blood from an open gash, and I wonder if I could have been this successful if I had done it on my own. Definitely not.It's not my job. I couldn't do it with so much perfection.Outside my window, the city hums, a never-sleeping thing brewing with life, and I find myself staring again at Thornesby's blurry photograph, his eyes hard and unforgiving. It holds me in so much of a trance that I reach out and trace the outlines of his face with my finger, wishing I could somehow will Vincent's schemes into existence from doing it. The wineglass beside me is half-empty, its contents sour on my tongue, and I find that the taste mirrors the churn in my gut. I'm thinking about power, about revenge, about the intricate web that Vincent has woven around Vieuti to wrap it around his finger-and how I'm going to cut every thread until it is all mine. Poetic justice. Yes, that's the wo

  • Scarred Roses, Burning Vengeance   WATCHING EYES

    ELEANOR SINCLAIR Over the next several days, I try to put Damian out of my mind, but he haunts me.The manner in which he appeared at the gala-so unlike the man I had married, and yet so achingly familiar-gnaws continuously through my mind. I plunge into work, managing my cotton business and the dream of climbing to the very top of independence. Yet, each quiet moment brings back his face: the desperation in his eyes, the deliberate solitude, the half-full glass. I feel pity for him, but all the same, I do not think I can go back to him.It takes up to the fifth day of waiting for Marcus's first update to come. When it does, I then agree to meet him at a dimly lit café on the outskirts of Vieuti, where prying eyes would not see us. He comes on time and slides into the booth across from me, his expression grim as he takes in the surroundings."Vincent's been busy," he says, pushing a thin folder toward me. "He's got his fingers stuck in a lot of pies-real estate, tech startups, even s

  • Scarred Roses, Burning Vengeance   THE DETECTIVE

    ELEANOR SINCLAIR He leaves, but the show went on in his absence. Around me, the gala pulses with energy, altogether a noisy jumble of clinking glasses and strained laughter from every angle, yet my focus stays laser-sharp on Vincent Moreau. He stands at the top of the grand staircase as an elevated figure would, his charisma a shining beacon of light summoning eyes and murmurs to himself like moths drawn to a flame. I, more than anyone else, it seems, knows how much he can burn.His suit gleams under the chandelier's light despite the matte quality to the material, and his smile-calculated, seemingly predatory-never falters. I know that smile all too well. It is the same one he wears every time he tells his lies, the one I imagine he had on while his plans for my marriage to Damian unfolded, infectious like poison through a vein. So... I need answers. I need to know if Vincent is still pulling strings with so much control, if his influence still lingers in Damian's life, or if he

  • Scarred Roses, Burning Vengeance   MAYBE

    ELEANOR SINCLAIR Or maybe I was lying to myself.And I thought that because I couldn't help but observe as he reached for another drink, his movements growing more fluid, his gaze seeming to blur ever so marginally, because he has knocked a few things over. He is drinking a bit too quickly, and for a moment I take a step in his direction to stop him, to shatter the glass and tell him to come home with me. What stops me is the woman that appears at his table, the light of the chandelier dancing on the revealing dress she wears, the smile practiced. She talks animatedly to him, her hand waving in a light gesture, but Damian's response is sharp, a cut-throat rejection that has her moving back with a stiff smile that carries pain in it. He doesn't need someone with him. That much, at least, hasn't changed-he always did like to be alone when he was sulking. The only thing is that this clearly is not sulking, not truly. It is something more substantial, a silent acquiescence that unset

  • Scarred Roses, Burning Vengeance   DAMIAN'S GHOST

    ELEANOR SINCLAIR Seeing Damian Blackwood so close sends a jolt of surprise and shock through me.The feeling is a gut-wrenching tug on the strings of a past I've worked so carefully to get past, and my hands tighten around the champagne glass, the chill of the glass a comfort as I freeze, half-hidden from him behind the curtain of velvet. His voice and that apology he gave in passing, is stuck in my mind, and without my mind playing tricks on me, I think it softer than I remember, without the forceful bite that once made him the man he was.The man I knew and loved. The brutal, reckless man. I watch him stride through the crowd, his broad shoulders a little bent and less erect, his step less assured than the man who used to walk into a room-every room he got into-as though he owned it. The Damian I knew had been a fiery storm-capricious, fierce, even cruel. This man before me now is a ghost of that tempest, faded, lost and subdued.I move deeper into the cover of the curtain, my hea

  • Scarred Roses, Burning Vengeance   SEE YOU AGAIN

    ELEANOR SINCLAIR The drive into the city is long, the road swallowed up by what seems like endless darkness. I keep the radio silent, letting the engine's hum and my own mind fill the silence. For some reason, Damian's face appears in front of me, the man who was ripped from me by Vincent's manipulations, and I find myself startled by how little I think about him.I don't know where he is-I don't care much. I do not know if he still clings to Vincent's lies, if he ever thinks of me and wonders what happened on that night. The pain he makes me feel is a dull ache, a bruise I refuse to indulge. There is no room for hurtful memories tonight, only resolve. If Damian is still in Vincent's power, then he must be quite a fool.He was never one. Or was he?I can't even exactly remember what he looked like. He was abusive. But he was the best husband, sometimes, so that it was easy to believe that I was married to two different people at once. Whatever... it's better to not think about him.

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